Chapter 14: More Than a Monster
THOOM!
The door rumbled again. A metallic echo reverberated through the steel walls like a hammer blow to the skull. Rebecca and Richard exchanged a glance. No words were needed. It was coming.
THOOM!
—He's using the blade to strike — Richard murmured, gripping his rifle —. He doesn't care how long it takes.
Rebecca scanned the room quickly. —There. A backup battery. And… a manned turret! — she exclaimed, sprinting to the far left of the chamber, where an old M134 minigun turret rested on a swiveling mount, connected to an emergency power panel.
—Will it work?
—If I can reroute power from that panel… maybe.
Richard didn't wait. He sprinted to the opposite side. A security locker held grenades. He shattered the glass with the butt of his rifle. Two grenades lay inside: one fragmentation, one incendiary. He strapped them to his belt.
THOOM!
CRACK.
A vertical crack split the door open. Rebecca lunged for the control panel, her fingers dancing across the controls. Sparks flew. Electric crackles. The hum of the turret as it powered up. It swung to face forward. Ready.
—Yes!
—Get ready — Richard said, sliding behind a stack of reinforced crates. From there he'd have cover.
A tense silence.
And then the door burst open.
KRAAAAAANG!
Fragments of steel flew inside like shrapnel. A figure emerged, cloaked in dust, smoke, and a heat almost organic. The Prototyrant.
Its blade glinted like raw flesh, dripping a viscous fluid that hissed as it hit the floor. Its left arm hung grotesquely, as if useful only for dragging it along. Each step thundered like a concrete slab slamming to the ground.
Richard hurled the fragmentation grenade.
BOOM!
The explosion filled the room with fire and shrapnel. The blast threw it back, but it didn't stop it. The monster's shredded torso was torn open, revealing bone reinforced with metal plates.
—That thing isn't human anymore…
Rebecca took a deep breath and opened fire from the turret.
BRRRRRRTTT!
Tracer rounds ricocheted off the Tyrant's chest, tearing off chunks of rotting flesh and even scraping teeth from its lower jaw… but it didn't fall. The monster lifted its blade and hurled it straight ahead.
CLANG!
The turret split in two. Rebecca rolled to the side just in time. The bladed arm snapped back to its owner like a whip.
Richard sprang from the shadows and aimed at its legs.
BAM! BAM!
The explosive grenades rocked the Tyrant's balance, dropping it to one knee. He seized the moment and sprinted for a cabinet where a semi-automatic grenade launcher hung.
—Rebecca! —Richard shouted. She was already to her feet, blood trickling down her forehead.
—Got it! —she cried. Richard tossed her the launcher, and she caught it in midair.
BLAM!
A grenade detonated directly in the Tyrant's abdomen.
One roar. More animal than human. More fury than pain.
It rose again, its torso half-charred, but it kept moving. Hunting. Always hunting.
The Prototyrant lunged straight at her.
Richard pushed her down and unloaded a burst from his rifle.
RATATAT!
One eye blew out. The other glared with even more hatred.
As the creature raised its blade, Richard lobbed the incendiary grenade right at its face.
FOOM!
Flames. Screams. A piercing shriek that made the walls tremble. The creature staggered back for the first time.
Rebecca sprang up like a shadow. Two more grenades. One smashed into its chest. The other into its leg.
KA-BOOM! KA-BOOM!
The Tyrant collapsed. Raw flesh sizzled, and part of its jaw hung disconnected. The blade throbbed, still unstable.
—Is it… dead? —Rebecca whispered, gasping.
Richard raised his rifle, ready to finish it off.
But the Prototyrant stirred. It didn't attack. It retreated. It crawled toward the door, dragging its blade along the floor and leaving a groove in the concrete. One last roar.
And then it vanished into the darkness of the corridor, leaving behind a trail of smoke and black blood.
The silence that followed was unnatural. Not a calm silence—but one of aftermath, as if the world had just exhaled after holding its breath too long.
The room lay in ruins. Almost everything not used as a shield, projectile, or trap lay shattered. Smoke hung in the air like a thick veil. The lights flickered with a reddish glow. On the walls: blood. On the floor: empty shell casings, bits of shrapnel, shards of glass. It was as if a hurricane of fury had swept through, leaving its mark in fire and steel.
Richard was breathing hard. His shoulder burned from the bruise. He had cuts on his face, and the shotgun he carried was now little more than scrap. A few paces away, Rebecca leaned against a toppled shelf, her uniform torn, her hands trembling.
They looked at each other. They were trembling—not from fear, not anymore—but from pure exhaustion, pain kept at bay by sheer will.
—No… we didn't beat it, —Rebecca murmured, barely audible.
Richard shook his head, coughing.
—No. But we made it bleed. And that… is saying something, because until now, that thing didn't even seem capable of bleeding.
A sharp buzz tore through the air. They both turned. The control panel in the corner—once dead, now miraculously revived—blinked with a new message: ACCESS AUTHORIZED – OPENING DOOR.
Rebecca squinted, focusing.
—We have a way out…
Richard stepped toward the screen… and then he saw it.
Right at the foot of the door, among debris and a smear of black blood, something glinted. A card. Small. Gray. Marked with the Umbrella logo.
He picked it up carefully. It was stained, but intact. An ID lanyard still hung from its side. The name was blurred… but not completely.
Dr. A. Kreutz.
—This isn't just any pass, —Richard muttered.
Rebecca moved closer and ran her fingers over the card. Something about its surface was strange: it wasn't a regular access card. It was a biometric-level card—for internal security clearance.
—Do you think…?
—That thing was a doctor… —Richard finished, eyes fixed on the door where the monster had fled, trailing a ribbon of dark blood—. It's possible. It was more than an experiment. It fought like it knew what we were. Like it remembered.
Rebecca shuddered.
—How does someone end up like this…?
—Umbrella, —he replied grimly—. It turns everything into a weapon. Even its own people.
The card trembled slightly in Richard's hand. The story wasn't over yet. They both knew it.
—We have to keep moving, —Richard said, staring at the screen—. This card can open more doors than just this one. If there's a direct route to the elevator, it's time to use it.
They helped each other to their feet and gathered whatever was still usable: a light machine gun with a half-full magazine, a box of loose ammo, a few medical syringes still cold to the touch, and some bandages. Rebecca checked her pistol. Her hand was no longer shaking.
—Ready?
Richard slid the card into a pocket on his vest, tension tight in his shoulders.
—Let's go.
The back hatch slid open with a low creak, revealing a new corridor. Dark. Cold.
Unknown Zone
The lights flickered erratically, as if the complex itself were breathing in agony. The access card trembled slightly between Richard's fingers. He had tried it on three doors with no result. But this one looked different.
The reader glowed with a faint blue light. As soon as he inserted the card, the panel emitted a higher-pitched beep. A green light blinked. Then a dull click. The door opened.
A stale air escaped from the room like a breath held for years.
Project Control Room – Level 5 Authorization
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